


Across the Endless Sea

by tentacledicks



Category: Original Work
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, Devotion, F/F, Fantasy, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:55:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24426892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tentacledicks/pseuds/tentacledicks
Summary: Ten years ago, when the war between the seafaring kingdoms of Ismene and Alagona broke out, the most beloved second princess of House Bellerose vanished. Conspiracies about her disappearance flew fast and quick, but eventually the war took over, and the people forgot.Since then, the dread pirate Ghislain has been a menace on the high seas, slipping across battle lines and wreaking havoc on both sides. She'd been a free woman for so long that the barest taste of captivity sent her flying, her beloved ship and crew carrying her far from the gilded chains she was once trapped by. The war might be ending, but she had no intention of going home.Home, unfortunately, had other plans.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Princess turned pirate/Lady knight sent to retrieve her
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39
Collections: Fandom 5K 2020





	Across the Endless Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [provetheworst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/provetheworst/gifts).



The cold spray of seawater left its mark on her cheeks, the salt crusting in her eyelashes as she squinted at the ship they’d been chasing for two hours. Catching up to for two hours, more like, because the Glorious Kingdom of Alagona couldn’t build a ship worth a damn, no matter how hard they tried. She gave it maybe another five minutes before they were close enough to start boarding, the thought of it slashing across her face in a sharp, feral grin.

Giselle whistled once, sharply, feeling the wind whip past her face as their sails filled. The ship ahead slowed, the dead spot of wind she’d created sucking the momentum out of it. There was no direction for them to turn that would get the wind back; she’d made sure of it.

As they drew close, she saw them frantically muster arms, swords and knives bristling. They thought, foolishly, that the Lady Knight would draw close, would throw wooden planks between them and little more, would perhaps use rope in an attempt to keep the ship for later. As if she had any need for an Alagonan frigate, useless little thing that it was. _The Resolute_ , so typical for Alagona. Her beloved Lady Knight kept its own secrets and she had something better than rope to secure them together.

“Get ready!” she roared with one hand raised, her crew already preparing to board. Her hand dropped, magic crackling around her fingertips, and the spring-loaded mechanisms deep within the Lady Knight fired.

Wood splinters flew as the barbed spears slammed home, driving into the enemy ship and trapping it. The men aboard stumbled and fell, unused to the brutal force—but the Lady Knight’s crew, the men and women working under the dread pirate Ghislain, knew the feeling well. They were over and across before the sailors could get their bearings, and Giselle howled with joy as she followed them.

The captain wasn’t in sight, but she’d expected as much. If he were anything like his compatriots, and she had no doubts about that, he’d be hiding in his quarters, desperate to hide the battle plans he thought she’d come to steal. Cowardice and foolishness both. She’d catch up to him soon enough.

Blood and saltwater mingled as Giselle drove her sword through the throat of a sailor, the spray coating her cheek even as she turned her head away. Alagona bred its navy on loyalty and religious devotion; surrender was worse than death and surrender to _pirates_ even worse still. They’d take no prisoners today and both crews knew it well. 

She ducked under the swing of another man’s sword, kicking him over the railing of the Resolute. A loud crash from behind her signaled that the crew had broken into the lower decks, ready to steal anything that wasn’t nailed down. There were fewer and fewer navy men left alive as she cast her gaze across the deck, and that left only the captain for her to deal with.

With another whoop of joy, she cut her way through the few men remaining, making for the captain’s headquarters—locked or barred, he wouldn’t be able to keep her out for long. No one ever could.

Ghislain was _unstoppable_.

Her hand had only just brushed the handle of the door when it was thrown open from the inside. The captain of the Resolute fell past her, his guts spilling out of a massive gash in his stomach, eyes blank with shock in death. There was another wound through his back, evidence of a blade driven through his heart. And his killer stood tall and unrepentant deeper in the cabin, her longsword held easy and loose in her hand.

Then her eyes caught Giselle’s and she fell to her knees, head bowed as she flattened her sword across her lap.

“I would join you,” she said, her voice clear and sweet, strong contrast to the muscle and height hidden behind her loose shirt. “I have no loyalty to Alagona and no desire to die.”

Well. Giselle could have assumed as much, since she’d recognized the knight after a moment of bewildered surprise. She just couldn’t figure out _how_ Josefine Lorensdatter, one of the best swordswomen of Ismene and known for her rigid streak of honor, had ended up on the ship in the first place.

“You what now?” Giselle asked, clever tongue turned stupid with shock.

“I would join your crew, my lady Giselle.” Josefine’s head lifted, her pale eyes dark in the shadow of the cabin.

“Ghislain,” she said sharply, even though none of the pirates could possibly have heard. Not over the raucous sound of their plundering, the battle won and their efforts turned to efficiently stripping the ship now. “ _Captain_ Ghislain, if you please.”

At her feet, Josefine tipped her head in acknowledgement. She made no move otherwise, clearly waiting for some kind of command, some sign that Giselle would either take her on or leave her to die. Behind her, the captain’s maps burned, but there was a weather-worn journal on the floor next to Josefine’s legs, a chest behind her that surely held something of value in it, and no sign of the battleplans the captain must have elsewhere on the ship. If Giselle couldn’t spot them in here, then undoubtedly someone else in her crew had found them already. The only mystery left in this room was Josefine.

Surely she’d been sent by someone. It was the only explanation for how she’d ended up _here_ , in the captain’s quarters, rather than down below as a prisoner like the war between Alagona and Ismene should warrant.

Sent by her father? Sent to _her_? Giselle couldn’t imagine why and _yet_ , the curious notion had seized her and wouldn’t let go.

The Resolute was foundering, the rest of her crew scrambling back to the ship with their remaining bounty in tow. Josefine’s clear gaze didn’t break, her sword laid across her thighs, the offer lingering in the air between them. It was too much of a risk, letting her old life creep into her new one, and yet—Giselle wanted to _know_ , hungered for whatever it was that Josefine had traveled across the ocean to bring her. Her crew had only ever taken volunteers and here Josefine was, volunteering.

The temptation was impossible to resist. After only a second more of hesitation, Giselle tossed her head, letting her hair whip wildly in the wind. “Well then, come on if you’re hard enough. We’re abandoning this creaky wreck, and if you’re not on the ship by the time we break off, you’re not coming.”

Without waiting to see how her acceptance was taken, she spun on one booted heel and climbed the railing. The wind buoyed beneath her, giving her a moment of weightless lift as she bounded across the gap between ships, the hard wood of her own ship’s deck solid underneath her feet once she landed again. Her crew were working swiftly to prepare the sails, second mate leaving her quarters with a nod back to indicate where he’d left the Alagonan battle plans—a fine thing, those, and quick to sell to any of the privateers in one of those lawless ports she so often frequented. Some might argue that it would be better to have the ship too, but Giselle cared little for the headache of commandeering ships and then finding a buyer.

No, if some of her crew wanted that, they could manage the problem themselves. _She_ had plenty of money coming in from the war effort and the desperate attempts to undermine each other that every country fell to. A feckless pirate could make a great deal of profit if she wished, just by whispering the right names in the right ears.

With a crunching groan, the barbed spearheads tore free of the Resolute’s side, wood snapping and flying as the Lady Knight broke away, her sails filling.

“Picking up strays again, my lass?” Her quartermaster, Tomas, came to stand beside her, though his gaze was on Josefine’s awkward figure on the deck rather than the horizon. He was pretty enough, despite being a few years past his prime, but his real draw was the quick mind behind his steely grey eyes. He’d been one of her first crewmembers and he was deadly loyal.

“Only the one,” Giselle told him, eyes fixed on the blurred line where clouds met sea. “And only because I knew her once. She’ll work, make sure of it. Doubtless she’s as pig-ignorant of a ship as I once was, so work her hard.”

He chuckled softly. “And she’s given a vote with the rest of us?”

“She’s crew.” Giselle smiled again, sharp and vicious, finally turning to meet his amused gaze. “Comes with all the rights and bondage, doesn’t it?”

* * *

Hartmann’s Port was a good two weeks away, even under full sail. They were provisioned for at least another month at sea but stocking up again here wouldn’t be too terrible an idea. The Resolute had carried a war chest of substantial size, doubtless the reason why her crew had fought so bitterly to the end—and doubtless healthily supplied by discreet passengers like Josefine. With the war plans ensconced in her rooms, Giselle had decreed the chest be split up equal-like; the ship’s funds would come from the sale of state secrets, and they had plenty left in the coffers as it was. Tomas was a good hand with money, and she herself had any number of accounts in more _legitimate_ cities.

They wouldn’t hurt for money for a long time yet, and that was good; a rich pirate crew was a happy pirate crew, and a happy pirate crew had no need to vote in a new captain. Best for all of them, really. Giselle had no intention of letting the Lady Knight slip from her grasp.

Poor Josefine had yet to fully grasp the intricacies of the ship’s politics. Giselle would be lying if she said she weren’t enjoying it, the knight’s struggle to maintain composure in the face of blatant disrespect—not towards herself, but towards Giselle. The crew, full of nasty-minded men and women that Giselle adored, had made assumptions and _those_ dismayed Josefine just as obviously as the disrespect did.

In short, half the crew had bets on when Josefine would ‘accidentally’ trip her way into Giselle’s bed, and the other half had bets on what she’d do when she got herself kicked right back out of it.

And why shouldn’t they? Giselle was a shallow woman, she admitted it, and she’d never dallied with her own crew. _That_ was as swift a way as any to undermine her position, sly insinuations about Tomas be damned, and she was too canny to fall into the trap that long hair and soulful eyes provided. Ladies on the shore, certainly. Ladies on her own ship? Unlikely.

Josefine wasn’t her type anyways, or so the crew supposed. She was taller than most men even, with a sharp-cut jaw and high cheekbones, her pale hair cut viciously short so it might fit under a knight’s helm. Though she’d brought her sword, she hadn’t brought any of her armor (and clever that, because Giselle had no doubts the crew of the Lady Knight would have drowned her in it) so there was nothing to hide the severity of her features. Her hands were already rough from years of knight’s training, muscle built for fighting rather than managing the lines and sheets, but she took to sailing with about as much grace as could be expected.

Giselle remembered the taunts she’d heard as a child. Josefine was from a recently landed family, was hard-faced as well as stubborn. The other landed noble children had little but viciousness to give her, and her looks were an avenue most often traveled. She’d defended her lady knight once, taken the cruelty doled out by a group of the pretty fillies and colts so certain she’d approve and turned it back on them, but it hadn’t been personal; Giselle couldn’t help loving an underdog and Josefine had been beset upon at all sides.

Strange that Josefine would be the one they sent. She was adept at swordplay and possibly one of the best fighters her father had ever knighted, but she wasn’t _subtle_.

Tomas was absolutely no help, laconic and amused when Giselle came to him raving with theories. He knew her history, which meant he was most able to tease apart the threads of conspiracy she was trying to weave, and he did so with lazy disregard.

“Maybe your throne is waiting for you,” he said, more interested in the bottom of his bottle than her vicious-quick strides around his makeshift office.

“No, that can’t possibly be it,” Giselle snapped, dismissing the idea outright. She was the fifth in line and none of her siblings had dropped dead recently, so certainly she wasn’t any closer to the throne than she’d been when she’d left. Further, perhaps, because two more had been born in the years since.

“Maybe they want you for the war effort?” He raised his eyebrows, setting the bottle down.

“Doubtful. Though they need me. Ismene has shit privateers and they’re losing the ocean by inches.” She spun, her braid whipping past her cheek sharp enough to hurt. “Do you think they mean to execute me? After all I’ve done!”

“You _are_ a pirate.” His smile turned wry as he corked his bottle and then pushed it towards her. “We all come to terms with it eventually, lass. Seems that you might need this more than I do at the moment. We’ll be pulling into port sometime tomorrow evening, aye?”

With a sharp, frustrated noise, Giselle scooped the bottle of rum up. “Suppose we will, and half the crew will be drunk within an hour. But I see your point. Once you’ve finished buying us supplies for the next few weeks, think you might ask around where I can’t?”

“I can manage that,” he said, waving her out of his office as he returned his attention to the ledgers. Annoyed, though mostly at herself, she made her way to her quarters, nodding at the men and women she passed as she did. The moon was up already, half-full and shining across the waves, only a few clouds scuttling across the sky to ruin its light. The wind was good but not strong enough to be dangerous, helped, no doubt, by the gentle nudging both herself and her pilot had been giving the weather.

Magic was a fine thing to have on a pirate ship. She’d used it to stay on top of the game for a long time now.

Her rooms were dark, only the silvery light catching on the edges of her desk and bed, most of the room dedicated to the massive table they planned their travels at. Impossible for the whole crew to have a say, but they trusted their officers who, in turn, brought their concerns or ideas to her. Right now, its surface was covered in maps and battle plans, their understanding of the war situation changing with every visit to a port. It wouldn’t do to be caught flat-footed by a sudden shift in politics.

At the foot of her bed, a black lump that she’d initially dismissed uncurled, silver spilling over the naked steel of a blade. Giselle froze, one hand dropping to her dagger as the other lifted to her mouth, the power welling up inside her—no fire on a ship, but she could steal the air out of an assailant’s lungs, render them immobile and remove the threat before it became one.

Then she groaned, recognizing the profile outlined by moonlight, and dropped her hand again. “Darling, you are going to get yourself _killed_ doing that.”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Josefine said, her sweet voice soft as she sheathed her sword. There was a small pack at her side, whetstones and oil for sharpening the blade, which at least explained why it had been bare. That was a few seconds off her life that Giselle would never get back.

“I’m a captain. I’m busy.” Not entirely—or even nearly—the truth, but she wasn’t about to admit it. Privately, Giselle had hoped to leave Josefine in Hartmann’s Port and wipe her hands clean of the situation; the curious notion that had seized her on the Resolute had not survived much longer than that first, whimsical interest. Frankly, Josefine represented a variety of problems, as Tomas had heard over the last fortnight, and Giselle didn’t have the time to deal with any of them.

But Josefine was crew, and that meant Giselle was obliged to at least hear her out. With a sigh, she lit a lantern, its golden glow rivaling the moonlight.

“That’s not why you’ve been avoiding me,” Josefine continued, stubborn as a mule but much more handsome. “I have news from home, and your father—”

“Nope! Not listening.” Giselle tossed her hair over her shoulder, discarding her heavy coat and sitting on the edge of her bed to pull a boot off. “I care not a whit for what is happening back in Ismene, and if it’s important enough that father needs a princess, then he has four more to choose from.”

“You care. You wouldn’t be hunting Alagonian ships if you didn’t care.” Oh, and that _stung_. Giselle resented the implication that she was aiding the Ismene war effort, even knowing that she was effectively doing just that. Her crew accepted that Alagona funded its ships well and had few opinions on the matter beyond it, while her officers were a little more wise to her reasons and accepted those too.

She was _not_ going to admit any of that to Josefine, however. She hadn’t earned the right of honesty from Giselle’s lips. “You’re mistaken, but it’s charming so I’ll allow it. We make port in the late afternoon tomorrow, so you’d best be ready. Try not to stand out so much that you get robbed, it’ll look poorly on the Lady Knight.”

For a few moments more, Josefine stood there, her grip firm around the scabbard of her blade. Then she tipped her head in acquescience, folding an arm over her chest and bowing in the courtly fashion. “As you wish, captain.”

What a strange combination, Josefine’s knightly standards and the very clear acknowledgement of Giselle’s piracy in one sentence. She wondered whether it tore at Josefine’s honor, or if devotion to the crown overruled the ideals knights supposedly upheld. She’d met plenty of landed lords in her father’s court that certainly did away with those ideals when it suited.

She turned that thought over in her head after Josefine left, examining the war plans without seeing them. The damned curiosity was back, her confusion over sending _Josefine_ —straight as an arrow and just as true! so terribly, gravely, awfully honorable!—warring against the wariness a decade at sea had rooted deep within her. Giselle had stayed a captain through wit, diplomacy, and occasional bouts of ruthlessness, with no regard for her heritage. That Josefine had found her, that Josefine was still on her ship, threw some of that into question.

And she wanted to _know_ , her swift dismissal of the knight be damned. 

Hartmann’s Port would hold answers, even if they didn’t come from Josefine’s mouth. That was a better, safer option.

* * *

The taste of magic was heavy on her tongue, heavy as the incense that filled the air with smoke in Old Scarlet’s tearoom. ‘Tearoom’ was a bit of a misnomer, but she did serve tea at the tucked away tables and this secluded backroom had a kettle and cups all its own. Giselle kicked her feet up over the arm of her plush chair, eyebrows raised as Old Scarlet puttered around fussing with her charms and her amulets.

“You’ve got some dangerous questions there, Ghislain,” Old Scarlet said eventually, her dusty red hair coiled around her shoulders. She’d been the most beautiful woman in the world twenty years ago, and she was more handsome than most of the ladies in port even now. “And _what_ would you be asking about Ismene for?”

“Alagona is going to realize their pretty war chests are targets sooner or later,” Giselle said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I just want to know the direction this war is turning. If Ismene turns me a profit, all the better.”

Old Scarlet regarded her steadily, with a focus that sent apprehension skittering up Giselle’s spine. That was the problem with using the old witch—she saw much more than she let on to, content to let herself be seen as a brothel matron and not the power she truly was. Hartmann’s Port was a retirement for her, far from the uncertain political waters of seafaring countries, but that didn’t make her _weak_.

There weren’t a lot of witch bloodlines remaining outside of the aristocracy. Giselle had wondered, once or twice, where Old Scarlet hared from, but she’d stopped herself from doing more than wondering. Once she opened that door, it would open the door for someone else to find _her_. And the Dread Pirate Ghislain had very good reasons to hide who she’d been before.

After a few more seconds of painful consideration, Old Scarlet turned and hunted out one of her amulets. It was copper wire and a brass ring, some kind of polished bone held suspended in the middle with the glint of glass beads dangling from the bottom of the ring. As jewelry went, it wasn’t too outlandish; Giselle could hang it around her neck with the rest of her necklaces and never have a person look twice.

“Ismene is hunting for something. Alagona lost the land war on that outcropping they’ve been so fierce over and their ships are raided by more and more pirates every season, only half of them paid by her enemies. It’s only a matter of time before they crumple, and Ismene knows this.” She placed the amulet in Giselle’s hand, her skin soft with the age that didn’t show on her face.

“And why the amulet?” Giselle asked, puzzling over it. The power was _fierce_ , vibrating through the delicate bones of her fingers.

“It’ll make it harder for them to find what they’re looking for,” Old Scarlet said, eyes gleaming with dangerous knowledge. “I don’t suppose you’ll be interested in one of my girls this evening, will you?”

Unsettled by how easily Old Scarlet had found her out, Giselle shook her head and summoned a careless smile to her face. “Not _tonight_ I don’t think—Tomas will leave me behind if he catches me in another woman’s arms! But I will certainly be appreciative of your hospitality next time.”

“We do love you so, Ghislain. You actually pay on time, unlike half these pigs.” Old Scarlet patted her cheek with condescending affection, then waved her away. With unease heavy in her gut, Giselle stood and exited the backroom, passing by the tables where Old Scarlet’s girls served tea and offered extras, the amulet held tight in her hand. She’d have to find a suitable chain as quickly as possible.

A port like this one had jewelers aplenty—it was as much a bastion for artisans as it was for pirates, the pride and unfaltering bad taste of seafaring rogues as sure a source of commissions as the best noble patronage. She headed for those shopfronts, ignoring the propositions from idiots that couldn’t recognize a captain, occasionally calling out insults of her own to rivals she recognized. Her sword sat easy at her hip, but no one gave her cause to use it.

Nevertheless, she was being followed.

She didn’t look back, even as she felt the gaze of her stalker hot on her neck. In the fogged glass of windows and the gleaming metal of hinges, she tracked the shape that slipped through the crowds after her—none of Giselle’s makeshift mirrors worked to give her a perfect view of the shadow at her heels. Turning would be too much of a giveaway, but there were some winding alleys that might lengthen her trip to the shops she was interested in. Plenty of dark corners to get jumped in. Terribly tempting for a would-be assailant.

With no indication that it was unplanned, she shifted direction slightly and trotted down a series of steps that led her into the maze-like spaces between buildings. The smell back here was abysmal, but she would be noseblind soon enough. More importantly, there were no witnesses that she could see. This problem would be dealt with easily enough.

She turned a corner and immediately ducked into an alcove just beyond it, her back against the damp stone as she held her breath. Sure enough, the whisper-soft steps followed, the faint shadow of a shape moving into her sight as her stalker drew near. Magic tingled at her fingertips, but Giselle drew a dagger instead, the hilt held loose and easy in her grip as the bare blade gleamed dully in the darkness.

The figure moved into reach. Giselle did not hesitate, grabbing them and slamming them into the wall, her blade at their throat in a second.

Josefine did not swallow, which was the only smart thing she’d done all day. Fool woman, what the hell had she been thinking? Giselle bared her teeth in irritation and snapped, “You know, I _told_ you not to get mugged.”

“Are you mugging me, captain?” Josefine’s sweet voice was deadly serious, her strong features set in stubborn refusal to bend.

“Oh, for the—Why are you following me, Josefine?” Irritation gave way to exasperation as Giselle pulled her dagger away, sheathing it against her thigh as her sword banged against her hip. The alleyway wasn’t wide enough for her to step away fully, so she kept Josefine pinned just to make a point.

“You don’t have a guard. I was watching your back.”

Giselle paused, lips pursed, and tried to pick apart the hidden meaning in that. Of course she didn’t have a guard—what sort of pirate would she be if she couldn’t hold her own? It had been so long since she’d been a cosseted pet at the palace that she’d forgotten how it felt entirely, but now that she looked back… Yes, the feeling of being watched was the same. Always, always being watched, for any possible misstep and any possible threat.

It was exhausting. And it _wasn’t_ something she wanted now. “Well, you can stop it at any time now. I’ve things to do today and I have no interest in babysitting you. Go… get a drink, buy a man for a few hours, avoid getting stabbed in an alleyway. _Away_ from me.”

Josefine’s expression turned mulish, but she inclined her head in acceptance. “As you wish, captain.”

Would she actually follow the order? Doubtful. But Giselle felt better for giving it, summoning her usual cavalier smile as she stepped away. Her amulet was still secure in her grip and the goldsmith wouldn’t be far from here. “And _don’t_ forget to be on the ship by the end of the week. If you’re not on, we’ll leave without you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Her eyes continued to follow Giselle down the alley, the weight of her gaze lifting the hair on Giselle’s neck until she turned down a different twisting path and stone separated them.

Damn, but she needed a drink.

* * *

The amulet was body warm where it rested between her breasts, the bone thumping slightly out of tune with her own heartbeat. It made her uneasy, but it also meant Tomas missed her the first three times he passed by her table, so it worked at least. She only hoped it would work well enough to keep her family at bay—whatever nonsense made them interested in her again, she had no desire to go back. Ismene could handle its problems _without_ her.

“Seems it’s something of a reputation issue,” Tomas said, shredding chunks of his dark bread into pieces and dunking them in his fish stew. “The runaway princess was right popular before she left, and there’s no few people who resent her going missing. Now that the war’s wrapping up, people are asking questions about that.”

“What, because of the supposed marriage offer?” Giselle stole one of the chunks, scooping up a mess of fish and vegetable with it before popping it into her mouth. Hearty fare, and a damned relief after some time at sea with dwindling rations. Soft bread was an occasional luxury on the ocean, because the ship cook had no skill with baking and no desire to learn.

“A bit of that, a bit of people wondering what all this was worth if she hasn’t come back.” Tomas shrugged broadly before pointing his spoon at her. “You ask me, it’s not _really_ the princess the people are keen on, it’s what she represents. But his grandness isn’t likely to stop and think about that.”

“Kings. Never prone to reason,” Giselle said sneeringly, making another attempt to steal as Tomas rapped her knuckles with his spoon. “How big of a problem is it going to be for us? With Alagona about ready to give in, their ships won’t be worth plundering, and the damn things are impossible to hand off to someone even if we weren’t wrecking them. Ismene’s got some ships on the water though, think we should start trying to bring them to port, see if anyone’s buying?”

“They’re damned distinctive and half the crews out this way can’t afford what they’re worth.” Tomas wrinkled his nose, considering it for a moment before shaking his head.

“Right. We’ll head south then, into warmer waters, see if those merchanting ships have gotten fat and lazy. No point in fighting a losing battle for pennies.” The amulet pulsed heavier under her shirt, burning hot for a second before settling into a softer, steadier beat. Giselle lifted a hand towards her chest before remembering herself and letting it drop again.

Tomas said nothing, his gaze sharpening for just a moment before he deliberately turned it away. As much as they were talking around the issue, he knew why she was so damned nervous—execution would be better than being trapped, trapped, _trapped_ in the palace again, burdened by diplomacy and responsibility, never allowed to lift a finger for herself again. She’d never wanted to be a princess. Even worse if her father got the fool idea to make her a queen.

She tapped a nail against the table, considering her options. Now that she had an idea of what her father was looking for, Josefine’s actions seemed… not wrong, perhaps, but ridiculous. Working on an Alagonian ship just on the off-chance that the Lady Knight would pirate it? Why not sign on with someone else and catch a ride to a place like Hartmann’s Port? It wasn’t the only den of pirates around, and Ghislain had made appearances at all of them. Surely there was a better way for her father to hunt her down.

And even if Josefine had been sent to retrieve her, she was doing a terrible job of it. Lurking about the port and glowering at anyone who made eyes at Giselle wasn’t a very effective way of luring her back to Ismene. It was almost as if she hadn’t come to retrieve Giselle at all. But what possible purpose could she have otherwise?

Damn her inability to stifle her own curiosity. If she’d just let Josefine sink with the rest of the Resolute, she wouldn’t be in this situation. Of course, then she’d have to contend with her crew’s outrage over that—they brought on anyone willing to turn sides, it was written into their code, and if Alagonian sailors were patriotic to a fault, that meant that Josefine’s desire to turn pirate was all the more extraordinary. She’d have had a riot on her hands.

“We’ll go south,” she said out loud, stilling her fingers as she narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. Ismene would not want to venture south, not when her island neighbors might take offense.

“As you like, captain,” Tomas agreed genially, his attention back on his food. “Would be nice to have the warmer weather, and we’re past the storm season now.”

He didn’t say that there’d be more competition, and she dismissed the possibility outright. With a wind whistler on board, the Lady Knight could outclass any other pirate ship, and her crew knew it. Little perks in having one nobly born runaway playing pirate. Yes, the southern seas would be best, fat with merchant ships and their precious goods and dotted liberally with trading hubs that wouldn’t look too hard at her cargo.

The problem of Josefine was shoved to the back of her mind. She’d deal with that when it came to a head, and not a second sooner.

She turned the conversation to less trivial things, asking him about the state of their provisions and the rough salary they’d made off the Alagonan plunder. It had been a good haul, the war chest aside, and their men would be happy to hear it—Tomas had haggled with a merchanting ship with low morals over selling most of it to more _legitimate_ ends, and the crew would be paid well on the morrow. With any luck, the southern seas would hold even more profit for them all.

They argued about supplies for an hour more, more for the fun of it than anything else, before Giselle finally stood with a flap of her hand. “Cook will fight you over the pickled onions, you know.”

“Ha! Cook can try,” Tomas muttered darkly, but he let her leave with nothing more than that.

Outside the tavern, she paused to breathe in the cool night air. There was a good breeze coming off the ocean, the skies clear despite the feeling in the back of her skull that warned of storms to come, and no one was brawling in the streets yet. Despite the grim conversation, Giselle was feeling rather optimistic about their prospects.

A shadow detached from a wall as she turned to walk back to the ship, too tall to be anyone but Josefine.

With a sigh of exasperation, Giselle turned to glare at her. “You know, I have a very fancy amulet that’s supposed to keep people from seeing me. It was terribly expensive. The least you can do is pretend to be affected by it.”

“I chased you for a long time, captain. I wouldn’t lose you again so easily.” Taking Giselle’s acknowledgement as tacit permission—or maybe just making certain she couldn’t bolt off as easily—Josefine fell into step beside her, one hand resting on her blade in perfectly, knightly posture. Even in the eclectic mix of cloth and leather she’d adopted for pirate garb, she looked regal.

The light from a tavern’s open doors caught on the edge of her cheek, curled around her lovely jaw and lit up each of her eyelashes as she turned her head. With great effort, Giselle glanced away.

“You’re a very _annoying_ shadow, you know.” Her feet led her unerringly towards the docks, where the Lady Knight’s masts joined the forest of other ships. “Why even follow me at all?”

“I told you, you don’t have—”

“A guard, yes, I know. I’m perfectly capable of defending myself. I meant why track me down in the first place?”

Josefine fell silent. If she were feeling kind, Giselle might have thrown out a half-dozen theories, suggested all the possibilities she’d come up with and let them be confirmed or shot down as Josefine saw fit; as she wasn’t feeling very kind at all, she let the silence drag out, heading for the dinghy manned by one of her pirates. The woman had a bottle of something undoubtedly alcoholic but she snapped to attention quick enough once she realized who approached.

“Back to the ship, captain?” The low rattle-rasp of her voice made her identity clear. Annie, who’d known Giselle almost as long as Tomas and been crew for even longer. Her distaste for crowds explained why she’d volunteered to stay behind.

“Aye, both of us. I don’t doubt everyone else is still in their cups right now,” Giselle said with a wicked smile, climbing into the dinghy without offering a hand to Josefine. “Tomas certainly was.”

Annie barked out a laugh that sounded more like a cough, the scars marring the skin of her neck peeking out from the satin scarf wrapped around it. “Suspect you’re right, captain. I’ll be trading off with Geoff then, let him bum about the docks for a while. Good haul?”

“Isn’t it always? We’re going south after this though, I have a craving for some warmer weather. Alagona lost the war, which means they’ll be slim pickings if we stay up here.” Beside her, Josefine tensed slightly. Annie’s shrewd gaze wouldn’t miss it, but that was for the best—the crew would think it strange if she had _no_ opinion of the war.

“Merchants,” Annie said, her lips lifting in a nasty grin. “I can’t _wait_.”

They reached the Lady Knight and Josefine followed her up, still silent. The dark waters carried sound easily, both the carousing from shore and the enthusiastic celebration from other ships anchored out in the cove, a faint but constant wash of noise to fill in the gap between them. Giselle doesn’t bother to look back, knowing that Josefine will follow anyway; behind her, Geoff and Annie squabble about a bet before he climbs down to replace her spot in the dinghy.

Her cabin was dark and silent, so like the last time that Giselle half-expects to see Josefine sharpening her sword at the foot of the bed. Ridiculous, of course, when Josefine was silent at her heels instead, but it took longer than she’d like to admit to shake the notion out of her head. With a flick of her wrist, she lit the oil in the lamp on her desk, a soft golden glow diffusing through the room.

“Your father wants you back,” Josefine said, her voice soft where it broke the silence. “I had thought I would have more time before Alagona crumbled but I—I miscalculated, captain. He would keep you as a bauble to placate his people, some grand gesture to ease the burden of the taxes he means to put in. They loved you, captain. He knows that.”

With a snort of derision, Giselle undid her sword belt, setting it across her desk. “What, and you’ve come to fetch me back?”

“That’s why he sent me, but I wanted to warn you. You weren’t…” Josefine trailed off, clearly groping for words that didn’t come easily. She’d never been silver-tongued, too blunt and honest for most of the courtiers that Giselle remembered. It had been one of many sources of mockery.

“I wasn’t?” she asked, arching one eyebrow.

“You weren’t happy. You were never happy in Ismene. You looked your happiest the day you sabotaged the lock on the gates and rode out.” _That_ caught her attention, her gaze snapping to lock with Josefine’s steady, serious one. “I was the guard that morning. I never told. You deserved something better.”

Giselle rocked back on her heels, resting her dagger next to the sword. _This_ she had not expected, not at all—neither Josefine’s admitted lie nor the warning she’d supposedly come to give. And in truth, she _had_ given some warning, because Giselle would never have gone to Old Scarlet without her presence, would never have asked Tomas to sniff out the latest round of rumors. But the reasoning behind either still wasn’t clear to her. Josefine was a renowned swordswoman and a landed knight, surely she had better things to do than hare off into the vast blue of the ocean in hopes of finding one pirate.

Except—

“Oh, darling,” Giselle said, pressing her fingers to her lips lest she smile and hurt Josefine’s feelings. She’d thought the crew was being, well, _themselves_ about it, assuming in the absence of hard details, projecting desire and interest where none could be found. It was a better assumption than the idea that their captain might be a runaway princess, and love made a fool of all sorts. It had never occurred to her that they might be _right_. “You can’t possibly be in love with me. I’m a terrible influence, you know.”

Josefine finally dropped her eyes, glancing away without easing the parade rest she stood at. Her short blonde hair was mussed by wind, still salt-encrusted and slightly tangled, the firm line of her jaw fixed, but the glow of the lamp softened all of that. It made her look vulnerable. It made her look fragile, as ludicrous an idea as that might be.

“Call it what you like,” she said, the sweetness of her voice wavering, “but it’s true either way. I only wished to tell you why I came. My sword is yours to do with as you please, captain.”

Oh _damn_ , Giselle did not say, hand dropping from her mouth. How was she meant to resist that? Any woman in the port could be hers for the asking, but this was the first one that had asked _her_ instead, even if it wasn’t in so many words. She truly was a terrible influence.

“You know the crew will tease you terribly, yes? And I’m not going to stop them. You’ll have to give as good as you get,” Giselle said, bending over to pull her boots off. She felt Josefine snap to attention again, felt the intensity of her stare and the longing hidden behind it.

“Does this mean you…?” Josefine whispered, a tremor running through her, her perfect composure beginning to crack.

“It means you need to take your clothes off if this is going to go anywhere.” Giselle straightened, reaching for the laces on her shirt. “And you can forget taking a shift on the deck. I intend to keep you busy.”

* * *

Giselle snapped awake with a gasp, clawing the amulet off her chest where it burned into her skin like a coal. No damage met her fingers, but it pulsed with fury in her palm, so hot that she couldn’t bear to touch it. Something was wrong.

“Giselle?” Josefine’s calloused palm pressed against her side, the nest of blankets around them rustling as she sat up. “Captain?”

“Damn! What—” Her snarled words trailed off as she stared out the windows across the Lady Knight’s stern. Six ships sailed through into the cove that Hartmann’s Port was built on, intent upon docking there. From this distance, she couldn’t see their flags, but that didn’t matter—no pirate had been able to steal a warship from Ismene, not whole, and she knew the shape of them by heart.

They’d found her.

Most of the crew would still be ashore, taking advantage of the chance to sleep somewhere other than the cramped quarters belowdecks. Even if she wanted to leave them behind, there wouldn’t be enough people to man the lines to sail out again, and she didn’t want to leave them behind, any of them. Couldn’t take all day gathering them though. Had to be smart about it.

From behind her, she heard Josefine’s sweet voice go low and furious as she swore, a cascade of vulgarities that left Giselle’s eyebrows raised as she turned back. Her lady knight had gone and picked up a whole new vocabulary. The look on Josefine’s face stopped Giselle from poking fun, protective hostility directed out the windows at the Ismene ships. She looked downright _murderous_.

Giselle laid a hand against Josefine’s cheek, feeling the taut muscle of her clenched jaw, and couldn’t stop a smile from flitting over her face. “We have an hour to round up as many of the crew as we can. I’m not letting them set up a blockade, so we’ll be sailing, with or without them, once that hour is up.”

“It’s not safe—” Josefine protested, her thin lips terribly soft when Giselle pressed a finger to them, silencing her.

“It’s not,” she agreed, itching to grab a sword and carve her way free again. “But I’m not leaving without Tomas, and we can’t sail without a crew. So you have an hour, darling. Be back on my ship before then.”

After only a second, Josefine tipped her head in acquiescence, catching Giselle’s wrist to press a kiss to her palm. Then she was gone, hastily dressing and clearly mourning the loss of her armor as she wrapped her sword belt around her waist. Even with the danger bearing down on her, _Giselle_ mourned the loss of all that lovely skin, scar-marked as it was. She’d get a chance to explore it in the daylight again once they’d left Hartmann’s Port and were well out of the reach of Ismene.

Her own fingers were deft as she hid knives at her wrists and a dagger on her thigh, her boots thudding as she burst out of the cabin with Josefine barely a second behind her. The watch had shifted again, as both Annie and Geoff lingered at the railing with three others, watching the warships with suspicion in their eyes.

“Drop a boat!” she called, bounding to the rail herself. The amulet sizzled like acid against her skin as she glared at the flags coming into view. “We need to round up the crew. How many aboard?”

“Ten of us, captain,” Annie said, dropping her hands to her dual swords. Her sharp eyes didn’t miss Josefine furtively retying the front of her shirt, but she said nothing of it. “That leaves twenty-three ashore, including both Cook and Tomas.”

“They’ll be sharing a room somewhere, so that’s easy enough.” Giselle shaded her eyes, guessing at the speed of the warships drifting in. They’d have bribes to pay and Hartmann’s Port wasn’t fond of the law in any shape—that would delay them further. It would be enough. It would have to be enough.

“We’re setting out?”

“We’re setting out,” she confirmed, the splash of a boat hitting the water signal for her to swing over the railing. “I want you and Josefine to come with me, and the rest of you to start readying the ship. The _moment_ everyone is back, we’ll be on our way.”

“And if the navy doesn’t approve?” Annie asked, dropping into the boat next to her. Josefine, still uncertain on the water, took longer to climb down.

“Well!” Giselle smiled, too bright and too mean to be mistaken for happiness. “We’ll just have to make a strong argument in favor of it, won’t we?”

The moment Josefine was settled, Giselle flicked her wrist. No point in hiding now, not when time was of the essence, and the water swelled up in answer to carry them to the docks. Annie, rough-mannered and caustic, would be able to sniff out the crewmembers in seedier lodgings, and she could kill her way through any possible problems. Josefine might be unfamiliar with the area, but she was _very_ familiar with Ismene tactics, so the disembarking sailors would be hers to handle. That left the fancier establishments to Giselle—the teahouses, the gambling dens that claimed a better clientele, the inns where Tomas was wont to stay when he felt indulgent.

They pulled up to the dock next to the other Lady Knight dinghy, the man on watch scrambling to ask why they’d come armed to the teeth. She left the explanations to Annie—though the warships ought to be explanation enough—and climbed up on the docks without hesitation.

“You have an hour,” she reminded them, then set off for the wealthy arm of the port without looking back.

The first three inns on her way up were empty of her people—two with rival crews packed in, the third currently in a feud of some sort with Cook, which meant the Lady Knight was avoiding it religiously. The teahouses served her better, three men in one of them, a beet-red woman in another, and all of them able to point her the direction Tomas had gone earlier in the day. Most of the crew would be in the lower reaches, piled into taverns and dicehalls without regard for their surroundings, but four of her missing twenty-three was not bad. Not bad at all.

And, luck of luck, Tomas and Cook were in the fourth inn she checked.

“You’re in a rush,” Cook observed, but he was also standing up without asking why. Her crew knew that she’d never sound alarms over nothing, and Giselle wasn’t prone to bursting into fancy inns for no reason either.

“Ismene,” she said shortly, meeting Tomas’s eyes and seeing them fill with grim acceptance of what that meant. The Lady Knight would fight simply out of loathing for the law and the love of their captain, but Tomas understood exactly why she’d rather die than be taken back. “We’ve maybe twenty more minutes to round up the crew and head off. Anyone not on the ship gets left behind.”

“Damn, it’s a good thing we provisioned yesterday.” Cook strode past her without hesitation, Tomas only a half-step behind him. Something in her chest eased, knowing that two of her oldest friends would be setting off with her; it would have killed her to leave Tomas behind. Might kill her yet, taking the time to come get him.

No, she couldn’t think of that. Both of them set off for the docks without her, Giselle turning her attention to the few gambling dens she might find more of her people in. None, as far as she could tell, and the ticking clock hovered over her, pulsing in time with the amulet burning away at her chest. There wasn’t any more time to check the rest of the teahouses or inns up here. She had to hope that Annie had met with more success.

As she raced back down to the docks, she caught glimpses of the warships between buildings overlooking the harbor. They’d anchored, sent their boats to land, and she was lucky, _damned_ lucky that they hadn’t thought to block off the entrance to the port yet. They might yet manage this, provided most of the crew was back to the Lady Knight.

Giselle darted through an alleyway, took a shortcut, swung herself over the railing of a set of stairs as she landed on the hard wooden planks of the docks. Just had to reach the boats before Ismene reached _her_. She could make it. Annie’s bright scarf was a beacon on the far end of the docks and no one else stood around her. Perhaps they’d gotten everyone. Perhaps they’d actually get off without losing a single soul.

The amulet flared viciously bright on her chest, magic pulsing with alarm, as her luck ran out.

Two dinghies docked, between her and Annie, swordsmen leaping out of them before they’d been fully tied. Ten, twelve, _fifteen_ blades between her and her destination, and more of those boats rowing towards them even now. Giselle drew her sword, flipped her dagger into her other hand, and whistled sharply for the wind.

Some of them fell into the water. Not enough. If there was one small comfort, it was that they had reason to take her alive, and she had no reason at all to give them the same consideration. She bared her teeth in a grin of rage, ducked under the blade of one man to slice up into the heart of another. Too many, and she caught a glimpse of more men setting upon Annie where she guarded Giselle’s last chance for escape.

Damn, damn, _damn_ , she’d been so close. Ten years she’d been running, and the kingdom had finally caught up. But she was going to make them work for it; let them do their best to take her alive, Giselle had no intentions of going back. She gutted one man, stopped a blade with her dagger and sliced the throat of another, slammed a booted heel on the docks to call a burst of water to drag two more down. It wasn’t enough.

If only there weren’t so many of them on her— 

Two men fell, beheaded between one breath and the next. A third toppled down beside them, screaming as he clutched at the wound where his sword arm had been. The path was clear, if only for an instant, and at the end of it was Josefine, pale like ice and so full of rage that Giselle could nearly taste it.

No time to savor that moment of recognition, her lady knight come back to rescue her. With another sharp whistle, she bounded over the bodies, ran a man through when he tried to stop her and skidded on the blood-slick planks of the dock as she sprinted for Annie. Josefine was barely a step behind her, overtaking her in an instant when some poor swordsman thought to delay them. If Giselle’s blades were wicked quick, hungry for blood like she hungered for freedom, Josefine was…

A beauty, even if no one else at court had even been bright enough to see it. A goddess, carved from marble and glass but no more fragile for it. She was a force of nature, pure and untamed, and she came to Giselle’s call like the wind, like the rain, a realization that made Giselle so giddy that she nearly missed her step when they bounded down to the last dock on the row.

Annie’s tender mercies had left four men dead on the ground already; Josefine barreled into the other three with a violence so controlled, it looked effortless. Giselle dodged all of it, threw herself into the dinghy and hastily undid the ropes keeping it secure. “We’re going! That’s the last of us, we’re _going!_ ”

The Ismene warships hadn’t realized how wrong things had gone yet. As Josefine and Annie scrambled into the boat, Giselle swung her hand wide and swept water up over the docks, the dinghies still carrying men towards them, every damn thing in the harbor except for them. Men cried out as their boats foundered, distracted from their pursuit of her if only for a second, but her boat leaped out across the water like an eager hound, slicing through the waves as she steered them back to the Lady Knight.

“You were the last, captain,” Annie said, her harsh voice even harsher from the exertion of a fight. “We got the rest of the crew aboard, every last one of them.”

“We only waited for you.” Josefine’s eyes were bright with battlelust still, but she’d sheathed her blade for now and only gazed at Giselle with something like relief in her eyes. Or perhaps something like adoration.

“And I do appreciate it, my darlings,” Giselle said, slowing them as they closed with the ship. From here, she could see the crew already at work, readying the Lady Knight to head out to sea. “I would be lost without you.”

Behind her, Annie barked out a sharp laugh, grabbing one of the ropes dropped to heft the dinghy up. Giselle tied her own knots with swift, deft motions, then darted up the rope ladder dropped to them with the other two just behind. Geoff was already at the wheel, the rest of the crew hauling the anchors up even as they secured the boats, and she could see the warships scrambling to try and stop them.

Too late for that, she thought with a whooping laugh as she called up the wind to carry them out of the harbor. Let those warships fight the tide. The Lady Knight was not beholden to the whims of the ocean, not with her at the helm.

“We did it,” Josefine breathed beside her, blood still smeared over her cheek and her hair all tousled from the hands she’d run through it. She looked kissable, wild, free like the rest of the crew was free. She looked like a _pirate_.

Giselle grinned at the thought, dragging Josefine close and giving in to the impulse to kiss her, this lady knight who’d thrown it all aside to be with her. Oh, they would have such _fun_ together in the south.


End file.
